


The Verdict of his Heart

by MrsHamill



Series: Grandmother Raven: The Path of a Shaman [6]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, Episode Related, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-08-10
Updated: 2001-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Which Jim confronts his past, Blair wonders about his future, and Morrie can't sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Verdict of his Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Starts the evening after Love Kills ended, and ends after Crossroads. Danger Will Robinson... There be tears ahead. Thanks again to Fox for her outstanding beta work.

_This is his first punishment, that by the verdict of his own heart no guilty man is acquitted._  
  
          -- Juvenal  
  


* * *

It was late, it was dark, it was cold, it was raining, it was miserable, and it reflected Jim Ellison's mood perfectly. He steered his truck around town blindly, reacting to the traffic reflexively, not seeing a damn thing, other than a lovely face with glazed, dead eyes.

She was dead. She might have been 'the one' -- but she never would be now.

Eventually, his '69 Ford (being the more intelligent of the two of them at that point in time) brought him to a familiar brick bungalow in a familiar neighborhood. No lights showed, and Jim could not trust his senses enough to tell if anyone was even inside.

After a few moments, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, again on autopilot. When it turned it on, he noticed that the message light was blinking frantically, but he ignored it. He dialed, trying not to think of anything at all, and waited for someone to answer.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded sleepy, and that, oddly enough, broke Jim's reverie.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry, I woke you," he said, his innate manners finally bringing him to himself.

"Jim? Is that you? Where are you, boy? We've been worried sick about you. And no, you didn't wake me, I've been up reading. Where are you?"

"I'm... I'm outside. Can... can I come in?" he asked, his voice sounding lost and needy.

"Of course. I'll meet you at the door." The phone clicked off, and Jim stared at it for a moment, before shaking himself and climbing out of the truck into the rain. As he walked up to the house, he realized his senses were back on-line again, because he could hear her voice inside. "He's here... no, I'll take care of it... don't worry, Blair... he'll be fine. I'll call you again, later. Get some sleep." Then the door opened, and he tumbled into light, warmth and strong arms that hugged him tightly.

* * *

  
When Jim finally came all the way back to himself, he found he was comfortably situated on the overstuffed sofa in Grandmother Raven's front room. His shoes and socks were off, his feet and ankles were wrapped in a warm towel, and he had been stripped of his shirt. Wrapped around his shoulders was a colorful afghan, and his back was propped up on a soft pillow. Grandmother Raven emerged from the kitchen bearing a tray with tea fixings; she wore a long, rather beaten-up robe and big fuzzy slippers.  
  
Jim pushed himself more upright to allow her to sit on the other end of the sofa and pour the tea. She handed him a cup, watching him seriously as he took a shaky sip. "Are you here with me now, Enqueri?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah," he replied. "Thank you."  
  
"I'll save the blistering for later," she said, sipping her own tea. "You scared us tonight, when you walked out on everyone."  
  
Taking a big gulp of his tea, Jim nodded. "I'm sorry. I just... it all just came crashing in on me. I thought I could handle it. I really thought I could." Jim watched, as if from miles away, as his teacup began rattling on the saucer. What on earth could be doing that?  
  
Grandmother Raven reached out quickly and took the cup and saucer, placing them on the coffee table with her own. Then she took his hands in hers and tugged him to her, pulling his head to her shoulder. "It's all right, Jim. I've got you. Release it, dear one. Release it before it eats you alive."  
  
Before he completely understood what was happening, Jim was wracked with huge, gulping sobs, his whole body shuddering as pain ripped through him. Grandmother rocked him gently, carefully, crooning into his thinning hair, treating him like the child he now remembered being. He wrapped his arms around her substantial middle and held on, clinging to her as he would a life preserver in a stormy sea.  
  
Jim Ellison did not cry; he howled out his anguish, for all the time lost with his mother, his father; for a childhood damaged by a father who cared too little; for a friend and mentor bleeding on dead leaves; for a brother he hardly knew any more; for a lost team for which he had been responsible; for a woman he once thought he loved sacrificing herself for him and dying in his arms. Jim Ellison did not cry. But little Jimmy Ellison simply fell apart, and was gently, lovingly put back together by the woman he now called Grandmother.  
  
All storms pass, and eventually this one did too, leaving Jim limp and wrung out. "I'm so sorry," he whispered into Grandmother's neck, deeply ashamed of his extreme outburst.  
  
"For what, Enqueri?" she asked, patting his back and helping him sit back up. "For being human? I hardly think that's something you need to apologize for."  
  
Jim pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face off, blew his nose and tried to avoid her gaze. "It's late, and I've put you out enough," he started, but she shushed him.  
  
"Jim," she began, "if you're thinking about taking off on me, you've got another think coming. You are in no shape to drive, and if I have to, I'll tie you to a chair." Firmly, she handed him his cup and saucer. "Here. Drink."  
  
To weary to argue, Jim meekly took a sip of the soothing tea. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
"That's better," she smiled gently at him. The slight creak of a door and soft paddling in the hallway announced the arrival of Morrie, who scrambled up the sofa to make a nest for herself between Grandmother Raven and Jim. Idly, Jim reached out and stroked her golden fur; she looked up, sleepily, giving him an approving stare, then with a sigh -- went to sleep.  
  
"I really thought she might have been the one," Jim said, his voice sad but steady. "She was everything I thought I needed in a woman. Sometimes, I think maybe she's part of the reason why Carolyn and I divorced. I kept holding her up to every woman I was attracted to. But I never thought I'd see her again."  
  
Continuing the gentle strokes, Jim went on, "To find out what, to know who she was, what she did, it was like the ultimate betrayal. And yet... and yet... part of me, some very small part of me actually thought about just chucking it all and joining her doing whatever she did. Just so I could be with her."  
  
Grandmother Raven sat still and silent on the other end of the couch, and if it hadn't been for hearing the beating of her heart, Jim might have thought she wasn't actually there. It made him obscurely bolder, as if he weren't confessing so much as merely talking to himself. "To have her -- just _appear_ \-- in my life now, just after regaining so many memories of my childhood, after having seen my father for the first time in years and years," he continued at little more than a murmur, "it just made it harder. There was so much I had repressed, so much pain and anger."  
  
After a few minutes, with only the satisfied sighs of Morrie breaking the silence, Grandmother said, "Tell me about your father, Jim."  
  
Still not looking at her, Jim said, "There's not much to tell. He was a working man -- still is in a lot of ways. He did the best he could, I guess, a single man raising two little boys by himself."  
  
"You harbor a lot of resentment towards him, don't you?" she asked.  
  
Part of Jim's mouth quirked up in a smile. "You've been talking to Sandburg," Jim replied. "I don't mind. Sandburg thinks what Pops did was reprehensible, pitting Stevie and me against each other the way he did. But I don't know. It might have been all he could do at the time, all he _knew_ to do." Jim stopped his reflexive stroking long enough to sip some tea, then chuckled when Morrie gave him a sleepy glare. "All right, I'll keep petting you," he murmured.  
  
"I'm just now getting to know my father again, trying to unlearn all that I remember and replace it with new memories. He's not really a bad man. I was so surprised to see all those photo albums and scrap books he had on me... I didn't even invite him to my wedding. But he had a picture, from the society column in the paper. The Plummers had that one put up." Jim watched his fingers comb through the incredible softness of Morrie's fur. "He had all of it, my graduation, the football games I played, my commission, even that damn magazine cover... all the stuff he missed."  
  
"Have you talked to him since?"  
  
"A little," Jim conceded. "Stephen still won't talk to him. I'm trying to broker a peace there, but it's hard as hell. And Dad... well, he's still a cantankerous sonofabitch. Even tries Sandburg's patience. But they're coming to respect each other, I think."  
  
They fell silent, a more comfortable, peaceful silence than what had come before. Jim reflected again on this remarkable person sitting next to him, and how glad he was that she was in his life. And in Sandburg's, too. "I wanted to thank you," he said quietly, "about Sandburg. He told me how you've taken him on -- officially -- as a student. I think he's feeling better now. He sure as hell looks better."  
  
"Good." Grandmother poured herself more tea, and leaned back. "You haven't asked him for help yet, have you," she said, making it more a statement than a question.  
  
"Well, he's been busy," Jim hedged, then snorted lightly. "Yeah, okay, I've been avoiding it. I just hate putting more on him, Grandmother. I already ask a lot, and hell, I know I'm probably as hard to live with as my father is. If not more so."  
  
She sighed in exasperation. "I don't know what it takes for you two, perhaps a couple of big bricks. You have a symbiotic relationship, Jim, you and Blair. Because of your senses, because of the shamanism, all of it. You must, you absolutely _must_ put aside this inappropriate guilt and consider him your source of -- of everything. Of light, of help, of love, of trust. Just as he must do it to you. It is imperative, Enqueri."  
  
Of light, of help, of love... well, he already trusted Blair. With his life, he trusted Blair. And Blair was his source of light, sometimes the only thing he could cling to in a rotten world. "I understand," he said, frowning lightly. "At least I think I do. It's... it's just really difficult for me."  
  
"I know," she said, patting the hand that still lay on a snoring Morrie. "I know."  
  
Jim lifted his teacup and was surprised to find it empty. Grandmother took it from him and placed it back on the tray. "You're going to stay here tonight," she said decisively. "This couch is very comfortable, once you move that snoring lump away. She usually sleeps with Violet anyway, probably just came out here out of 'satiable curiosity."  
  
Jim grinned, an expression that felt good on his face. "Well, it's not her nose that's going to stretch. Are you sure, Vi?"  
  
"Absolutely. I'll wake you in the morning, early, and you can get back home to change before you go to work. And Jim?" She waited until he had lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Let me give you some advice, if you don't mind."  
  
"Of course... Certainly," he said, blinking.  
  
"Take some time off. Go up, out into the mountains, or down by the shore, someplace, alone. You need the time to think, without distractions. You have plenty of vacation, I hope, and knowing you, it's probably been years since you've taken any time off."  
  
"Well, yeah," Jim replied, feeling his face flush.  
  
"Then take it. Do you have a place, or know of a place where you can feel the peace?"  
  
Jim thought. "Uh, actually, yeah. There's this little mountain town, up near the border, where I've gone fishing. Haven't been there in years."  
  
"Good," Grandmother said, rising and gently lifting Morrie from her nest. "Tell Blair where you're going and why. He'll understand and it'll keep him from worrying. There are times when you just need to be alone, Jim. This is one of them. Recharge." An indignant Morrie squirmed out of her hands and humped down the hallway. "Are you comfortable enough? Would you like a better pillow, or another blanket?"  
  
Jim stretched out; the couch was comfortable, and he was already feeling his eyelids droop. "No, I'll be fine. Thanks, Grandmother."  
  
"You're quite welcome, Enqueri," she replied, and to Jim's surprise, she kissed his forehead. "Sweet dreams."  
  
He was asleep before she turned the light off.  
  


* * *

  
Blair leaned heavily on the doorpost after knocking; he was still feeling pretty wobbly and drained. It might not have been such a good idea after all to come visit Grandmother, but he sure needed a friendly face.  
  
Violet opened the door. "Blair, hi!" she said brightly. "Wasn't expecting you today."  
  
"No, but I need to see Grandmother, if she's available," Blair replied wearily.  
  
"What's the matter?" she asked, taking his coat. "You look like shit, Curly."  
  
"There's a lot of that going around," Blair replied tartly, then smiled ruefully. "Sorry, Squawgirl. It's been a rough week."  
  
She frowned at him, but didn't say anything as she hung up his coat. "Grandmother's in her office. Go on back."  
  
"Thanks, Violet," Blair replied, moving down the hallway. The door to Grandmother's office was ajar, and Blair tapped lightly on it.  
  
"Violet?" he heard from inside.  
  
"No, it's me," he replied, sticking his head around the door. "May I come in?"  
  
"Blair! Come in boy." Grandmother Raven was sitting behind her desk, working on her computer. "I'll be done here in just a minute... Cascade Life magazine wants some input on a special feature they're doing."  
  
Blair made a noncommittal noise and walked into the room. The loveseat looked too inviting to pass up after the last few days he'd had, so he sat, then stretched out. After a few minutes, the clicking of keys stopped and he heard Grandmother rise and come to him. A cool hand was placed on his forehead. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned.  
  
"Better," he replied, struggling to sit back up. "I know what you're going to say when I tell you what happened, so you might as well skip it," he added dryly. "I was poisoned. Along with the rest of the town. Except, of course, for Simon and Jim." Quickly, efficiently -- as he had already told this story several times -- he filled Grandmother in on what had happened up in Clayton Falls.  
  
She clucked and shook her head, but didn't say a word until he had finished. "One question, Blair," she said, "why were you even there? I know trouble follows you like a crow, but what on earth were you doing there?"  
  
Sighing, Blair let his head thump on to the back of the loveseat. "Jim walked into Simon's office the other day and asked for a week off. Boom. Just like that," he said wearily. "Simon wanted to follow him, wanted to scope out the fishing spot he was going to. And I... well, I was worried about him. So we followed him. Biggest mistake of my life," he muttered, closing his eyes. "I think Jim wants me to move out. I'm -- I'm looking into an apartment close by, but out of his space."  
  
"Let me get this straight," Grandmother said, her outraged tone making Blair sit up and open his eyes. "You deliberately followed a man who wanted time to himself? Blair Sandburg. I'm ashamed at you."  
  
"Well, it was mostly Simon's idea..." Blair said weakly. What set _her_ off?  
  
"But you went with him!" Grandmother scowled at him. "When I told Jim he should get away, find some place to spend some time alone, I never thought for one minute that you two gadflies would follow him."  
  
"Wait a minute," Blair said, blinking. " _You_ told him to take some time off?"  
  
"I certainly did," she replied frostily. "You know what a rough time he's been having lately. Of course he needs time away from everything. Time alone to recharge. And I suppose," she added, in a disgusted voice, "that he _didn't_ tell you where he was going and why, even though I told him to."  
  
"Oh my God," Blair murmured, putting his head in his hands. "No, he didn't. But, well, maybe he was going to, but I was always with Simon. What a schmuck I've been."  
  
"No more than he has," Grandmother agreed. "I can't believe you two. And now, you're what, contemplating moving out of his apartment?"  
  
"Well, he sounded like he wanted his space," Blair said, trying to keep from whining. Why hadn't Jim _said_ anything to him? "I mean, he told us he loved us, but that he needed time alone."  
  
"As Violet would say," Grandmother snorted, "well _duh_." Blair had to laugh at that, and it made him feel a bit better. "I'm certain that Jim loves you, and I'm also pretty certain that he doesn't want you to move out. He needs you, Blair, as much as you need him."  
  
Groaning, Blair smacked his forehead. "I've been such a schmuck!" he nearly yelled. "Stupid, stupid..."  
  
"Quit that." Grandmother's voice had the harshness of command, causing Blair to freeze instantly. "You're behaving like a child. You made a mistake, but good came out of it anyway, as I'm not sure Jim would have been able to take on an entire army single-handedly. Although I wouldn't put it past him to try," she added, grinning wryly. "Is he still up there?"  
  
"Yeah," Blair replied, taking a deep, calming breath. "He offered to let us stay with him, but, well, I wasn't feeling too good and Simon wanted to get back. God, I hope I haven't ruined it for him."  
  
"I hope you haven't either," Grandmother said, but her voice carried less anger than it had. "But I expect you haven't. He'll come home refreshed, in a better frame of mind." Blair didn't say anything, but shook his head regretfully. "In the meantime, you and I need some time. I'd like to try another guided meditation with you, Blair, but not until you're feeling better. How about day after tomorrow?"  
  


* * *

  
Several days later, Blair was home in the loft. It was early evening; he had just eaten dinner and was watching TV with his stocking feet propped up on the coffee table. A bump from the door made him turn in time to see a tired, happy, dirty, disheveled, bewhiskered, and absolutely edible Jim Ellison tumble into the room amid a tangle of backpack and tackle box.  
  
Absolutely edible? Where the hell had THAT come from?  
  
To cover his confusion, Blair leapt up and hurried to help. "Hey, man, you're back," he said unnecessarily, shifting the tackle box out of the way and carefully putting Jim's rod and reel over it.  
  
"Not much gets past you, Darwin," Jim replied, grinning. To Blair's amazement, Jim snagged the front of his shirt and drew him in for a hug. "God, it's good to see you, Sandburg," he murmured.  
  
Feeling both delighted and a bit uncomfortable, Blair returned the hug tightly. "Must've been good fishing," Blair said as Jim released him.  
  
"Great fishing," Jim agreed. "But it's good to be home too, you know? Back to the familiar."  
  
"Yeah," Blair agreed, leaning against the counter in the kitchen and watching as Jim began shedding layers.  
  
"Good to sleep in a real bed too," Jim added, down to his thermals. He bundled up his dirty clothes, lifted his backpack and made for the bathroom. "Not to mention real showers."  
  
"Well, I wasn't gonna say anything, man," Blair joked, unaccountably moved. Jim shot him the finger as he disappeared into the bathroom and Blair laughed. "You stop for anything to eat, Jim? I can whip you up something if you want," Blair said, his voice only raised a bit.  
  
"Naw," he heard yelled from the bathroom. "I stopped at WonderBurger. But thanks." After a second, the shower hissed on, and the door opened. Jim, naked to the waist, leaned out to look intently at Blair. "Thanks for everything, Chief."  
  
Smiling brilliantly, Blair replied, "Any time, Jim, any time."

end


End file.
